


(somebody) tell me it won't be long

by seeingrightly



Series: i haven't known you for a lifetime [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bipolar Disorder, M/M, Sexist Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-20 16:59:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2436152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seeingrightly/pseuds/seeingrightly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Ay, wake up,” he says, nudging Ian’s shoulder a couple more times when there’s no response.</p><p>After a few seconds, Ian grunts and pushes his face against the bed.</p><p>“I thought you’d be an obnoxious morning person,” Mickey says, only annoyed because he guessed wrong. “Come on, aren’t we going to breakfast or some shit? Go tell Liam to put some pants on.”</p><p>Ian lets out a long sigh and rolls onto his back, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(somebody) tell me it won't be long

**Author's Note:**

> this chapter deals with ian's bipolar disorder, particularly a down period in the present setting, and also brief mentions of his past. i can warn or tag more specifically if necessary. i also want to reiterate that i have no personal experience with the disorder; i hope i'm writing this as respectfully and accurately as possible.
> 
> thanks to [melissa](archiveofourown.com/users/melissawright) for editing and such.
> 
> title from miike snow's "a horse is not a home".

Mickey wakes up to the sound of a little kid yelling, but it’s not his little kid, so he’s fuckin’ confused until he opens his eyes and sees the stupid partially-closed accordion door of Ian’s room. Liam runs by wearing only his underwear, and Mickey is really, reluctantly happy that Ian convinced him to borrow some obnoxiously long sweatpants and a t-shirt before he fell asleep last night.

Groaning, Mickey reaches for his phone. It’s early, way too early for Mickey to be woken up on a Saturday, but Ian had come to harass him during his shift at the club the night before and then dragged him back to the Gallagher house in the middle of the night, and Yev’s always taken care of by anyone other than Mickey on Saturday mornings. Ian had said something about dragging Mickey along to breakfast in the morning, since him and Liam usually went during Fiona’s diner shift – one of her many jobs.

He rolls over, bumping into Ian has he goes. Ian’s curled up in the middle of the bed, most of the comforter piled on top of him, one arm now trapped under Mickey’s side, like in his sleep he’d thought about wrapping it around Mickey but came up short. Mickey grabs his wrist and moves his arm so that it’s between their chests, but he doesn’t let go.

Ian’s faced is pressed against the bed, in the gap between the two pillows, and his hair is falling over his forehead, and his lips are parted just a little.

Mickey drops Ian’s wrist and punches him lightly on the shoulder.

“Ay, wake up,” he says, nudging Ian’s shoulder a couple more times when there’s no response.

After a few seconds, Ian grunts and pushes his face against the bed.

“I thought you’d be an obnoxious morning person,” Mickey says, only annoyed because he guessed wrong. “Come on, aren’t we going to breakfast or some shit? Go tell Liam to put some pants on.”

Ian lets out a long sigh and rolls onto his back, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. He’s not touching Mickey at all anymore. He seems irritated, or something, and Mickey kinda starts to worry. It’d been Ian who’d convinced him to stay over, wrapping his arms and legs around Mickey like a giant octopus and sleepily teasing him until he gave in. But maybe Mickey had been right to hesitate, because it’s not like he’s done this before, and now Ian doesn’t seem thrilled about it.

“Sorry,” Ian says after a minute, in this low, scratchy, almost toneless voice.

He doesn’t look at Mickey, who tugs at the hem of the ROTC t-shirt he’d borrowed.

“I don’t feel so great,” Ian adds. “It just… happens like this, sometimes.”

“Oh,” Mickey says, but he’s not sure what Ian means.

“I’m sorry,” Ian says again, but it sounds weird when his usual earnest tone is missing. “I don’t think I can do breakfast.”

“Oh,” Mickey says again, sitting up. “Uh, okay. Do you want me to – should I –”

Ian’s still not looking at him, and it’s kind of freaking Mickey out.

“You can go,” Ian says, sounding so tired. “You should go. I’ll feel better soon.”

“Okay,” Mickey says, and he gets up and he gets changed, and then he stands there holding the clothes he borrowed. “What –”

Mickey cuts himself off and looks away. He’s not sure if he should ask what’s wrong; Ian’s being dismissive, but that could be because he feels sick, or it could be because Ian wants him to go.

“A down period,” Ian says, and it takes Mickey a second to realize that he must mean it’s his bipolar thing. “I haven’t had one in a while.”

Ian finally looks over at him, hovering near the doorway. He smiles, but it looks funny.

“The laundry chute is in the hallway,” Ian says, and his arm moves like he was thinking about pointing but then quit halfway through.

“Okay,” Mickey says again, feeling robotic, feeling like he doesn’t know what he’s doing, but then he drops the clothes on the floor and moves toward the bed.

He’s sitting down and leaning over Ian before he catches himself. He’s not sure what he’s planning on doing. Ian’s smile is apologetic as he reaches up and puts his hand on Mickey’s arm.

“Sorry,” he says again, probably because he can tell Mickey’s freaked out.

“Shut up,” Mickey says, and then he leans forward and presses his lips to Ian’s forehead, the way he does when he tucks Yev into bed, the way he has the handful of times Mandy’s cried herself to sleep in front of him, the way he did that one time Svetlana got really sick and ended up in the hospital.

He gets up and he turns away, quickly, and he trips on the clothes he’d dropped on the floor so he picks them up.

“Bye,” Ian says, with more inflection in his voice than Mickey has heard so far this morning, but Mickey can’t tell what that tone is supposed to mean, so he leaves without looking back, shoving the clothes down the laundry chute and running down the stairs, ignoring Carl when he says hi and only stopping when he’s on the front steps.

Mickey leans over, putting his hands on his knees, and watches the white puffs of air appear as he breathes heavily through his nose. He jumps when the door opens behind him a couple of minutes later.

“Still out here?” Fiona asks.

When Mickey turns around, Fiona holds a mug out to him. He shifts his weight for a second before taking it, sitting down next to her. She only has a robe and slippers on over her pajamas. She’s probably freezing.

“You just freaking out about the unplanned sleepover or what?” Fiona asks, sounding a little concerned but not particularly judgmental.

“No,” Mickey says. “Well, yeah, but it’s not – Ian’s not feeling good.”

Fiona looks over at Mickey, her eyebrows drawing together.

“He tell you that?” she asks mildly.

“Yeah,” Mickey says, and she Fiona visibly sags in relief.

“He’s not too bad then,” she says, switching into that chipper voice Mickey’s seen her use on the kids. “I’ll go see how he is in a minute. He’ll probably be feelin’ fine in a couple of days. Might miss the first day or so of the semester depending how he is come Monday, but he’ll be good in no time.”

She takes a long sip of coffee, and then she gives Mickey this intense look, like she’s about to interrogate him or some shit.

“And how are you doin’?” she asks.

Mickey shrugs and takes a huge gulp of coffee. He drums his fingers against the side of the mug, which says “MIGHT BE VODKA” in red lettering.

“He kept apologizing,” he mutters.

“Yeah, that’s Ian,” Fiona says, nudging her shoulder against Mickey’s.

He’s surprised that he doesn’t hate her for it.

“Look,” Fiona says, “I’m sure Debbie will text Mandy all day about how he’s doing, but I’ll call you tonight, alright? And tomorrow morning.”

“He’d hate that,” Mickey says, never mind the fact that he definitely wants her to.

“I learned a long time ago that I’d rather him hate me for payin’ too much attention than for not payin’ enough attention,” Fiona says, smiling sadly into her mug.

Mickey rubs at his mouth with his hand.

“If I ask him about all the shit that happened back then,” he says slowly, “will he tell me?”

“I think he will,” Fiona says, putting her mug down and rubbing her hands together. “He’s not big on sharing like that, but I think he told your sister a lot of it. I don’t think he’s ever had such a close friend before.”

She sticks her hands under her armpits and smiles over at Mickey, and it’s still a little sad, but it’s genuine.

“And he’s never had somethin’ as good for him as what he’s got going with you, either,” she says. “I know it hasn’t been a long time, but it’s nice to see him so happy, and so comfortable, you know? He’s never really had anything stable before, something that wasn’t really messy.”

Mickey stares down at his mug, holding it tightly with both hands. He’s grateful that the cold has probably already turned his whole face pink.

“I’m not exactly Mr. Stable Relationship,” he says.

“Well, from what I can tell, you’re doin’ just fine so far,” Fiona says, putting her hand on Mickey’s shoulder, smiling at him wide and bright, too certain and too much like Ian.

Abruptly, Mickey feels overwhelmed, jumping up and nearly dropping his mug. Fiona takes it from him when he holds it out, raising her eyebrows.

“I’m gonna head home,” he says, looking away from her. “Thanks. For the coffee.”

“Right, for the coffee,” Fiona says sardonically as Mickey walks toward their front gate.

He shoves his hands in his pockets and steps out onto the sidewalk, waiting until he hears the front door close to turn around and glance up at Ian’s window. The shade is down, and of course he can’t see anything. When he glances away, he catches Fiona staring at him from the living room window, and when he flips her off, she laughs.

-

The next morning, when Mickey is eating breakfast with Yev, Fiona texts him.

 _cant call u bc ian is up & will hear,_ it says. _feels better but still tired & cranky. meet debs for lunch at mandy’s diner?_

Mickey squints at his phone.

“Who is it?” Yev asks, dropping Cheerios and milk on the table when he loses concentration and tilts his spoon.

“Fiona,” Mickey says. “Ian’s big sister, with the dark hair.”

“I remember,” Yev says, only he pronounces it _renember_. “What did she say?”

“Uh,” Mickey says, “she said Ian feels better. He was sick yesterday.”

“He got sick during your sleepover?” Yev asks, eyes widening. “Did he puke?”

Mickey cringes. Mandy’s the one who started the sleepover thing, a couple of years ago, and it sounds ten times more embarrassing now that it’s being applied to Mickey.

“No, he didn’t puke,” Mickey says, grabbing a napkin and wiping at the milk.

He’s not sure what he’s supposed to tell Yev when this kind of thing happens. He can probably ask Debbie what they used to tell Liam.

 _okay_ , he sends back to Fiona.

He leaves Yev with Svetlana when he heads out. Mandy’s shift ends at lunchtime, so when Mickey gets there, brushing snow off of his shoulders and wiping off his boots, he sees her already changed and sitting across from Debbie in their usual booth. He taps his sister on the shoulder to get her to make room, and Debbie smiles at him and mostly looks like she means it.

“Hi,” she says, sounding tired. “We were just talking about our classes for the semester. I promise I haven’t told Mandy anything that you don’t already know.”

“I’ve been trying to pry it out of her for ten minutes,” Mandy says darkly.

Mickey looks over at her. She’s glaring at Debbie, but it’s the kind of glare she gives Ian, the twist of her mouth way too fond to be scary. It’s weird to see Mandy be friends with a girl like this. She’s been comfortable with Svetlana for years, but that grew out of obligation, not interest. Mandy was never friends with girls back home, and Mickey wonders if it’s because Debbie’s so like Ian, or because she’s younger. She’s in college, so she isn’t that young, but Mandy’s used to Ian treating Debbie like a little sister, so maybe it’s a sisterly kind of relationship. No sense of competition, or whatever it is that makes girls fight. Mickey doesn’t fuckin’ know.

The waiter comes over, tries to be cute at Mandy for a second before giving up and taking their orders, looking bored with his life. Mickey and Mandy both glare until he walks away. Debbie looks amused.

“So spill,” Mickey says. “How’s Ian?”

“Weird,” Mandy says, giving Mickey some kind of squint.

“Fuck’s your problem?” Mickey asks.

“You actually called him by his name,” Mandy says, her tone accusing.

“What?” Mickey asks. “I call him by his name all the time.”

“You do not,” Mandy says. “You only do that when you’re in dad mode.”

“No,” Mickey says, glaring, even though he’s pretty sure she’s right. “Fuck you.”

“Do you want me to tell you or not?” Debbie asks loudly, and she probably uses that voice at Debbie Daycare.

“Spill,” Mickey repeats, glaring at her like she had anything to do with the problem.

“Alright,” Debbie says easily. “I know you talked to Fiona last night, but Ian stayed in bed for most of yesterday. He was awake and talking for a lot of it though, which is good. And today he got out of bed, a bit later than he normally would, and he skipped his run, but he got up and showered and stayed downstairs. He hasn’t really eaten or talked too much, and he’s really grumpy, but I think he’s more annoyed at himself than anything.”

“What do you mean?” Mandy asks.

“He’ll probably be good for classes tomorrow,” Debbie says, looking from Mandy to Mickey. “The worst part is basically over. But he’s mad that it happened yesterday. He ruined your plans.”

“He didn’t ruin shit,” Mickey says loudly. “It’s not like he can control it.”

“I know, but that’s how he feels,” Debbie says, but she’s smiling at Mickey in a way that doesn’t match her words.

Mickey squirms, bunching up his straw wrapper.

“Does Liam get pissed if Ian has to cancel?” he asks, unable to stop the aggression from creeping into his voice.

“No, because we explain it to him,” Debbie says. “He understands a lot more now than he did when he was younger. It used to upset him or scare him sometimes, and the way we explain it is… kind of really inaccurate, but it’s getting closer to the truth as he gets older. He gets it enough that he doesn’t get pissed, no.”

“Well, I’m not a fuckin’ nine-year-old, am I?” Mickey says. “I think if he can handle it, I can handle it.”

“Okay,” Debbie says, still smiling at him.

“He always that hard on himself?” Mandy asks.

“Yep,” Debbie says, her smile fading a little. “Although the particular circumstance might be new. I don’t know if Ian’s ever really been so honest with any of his boyfriends about mental health stuff before.”

At the mention of that word, Mickey freezes up. He’s thought about it, in the past, mostly in the context of thinking that he’d never be anyone’s boyfriend. He never, ever got as far as thinking that he one day might _have_ a boyfriend. And, for as long as he’s known Ian now, for the weeks that they’ve been… dating, or whatever it is they’ve been doing for about a month, it hasn’t really occurred to him. He has a boyfriend. He _is_ a boyfriend. It’s fuckin’ weird, but not as scary as he’d have guessed.

Mickey startles when the waiter puts his dish in front of him.

“I think Ian will be relieved when you tell him that he doesn’t have to worry about his mental health stuff causing any problems,” Debbie says pointedly, smiling at Mickey as she picks up her knife. “Plus, I already told him that he only has to worry about me and Mandy messing him up if he _actually_ screws things up.”

“And Svetlana,” Mandy adds with her mouth full.

 Mickey shakes his head and digs in.

-

Fiona calls Mickey on Monday morning, when he’s at work at the gas station. She answers when he calls her back twenty minutes later on his break.

“Hey,” she says, her voice tinny.

It sounds like she’s outside, walking, probably heading to one of her jobs.

“Uh, hey,” Mickey says. “How are things?”

“Not at a hundred percent, but definitely better,” Fiona says. “He’s going to his classes today. I know he and Mandy’ll be on campus at the same time today, but I don’t know if they’re going to meet up.”

“Okay,” Mickey says. “I – I haven’t talked to him since.”

He’s not sure if this is one of those things where he should give Ian space, or if it would be better if Ian did hear from him, or what. Mickey’s not really the type to reach out anyway. And he’s not really sure how he feels. Ian didn’t fuckin’ scare him off, or whatever, even though seeing it had kind of scared him. He’s not – he’s not freaked out _by_ Ian. He’s freaked out _for_ him. But he doesn’t know if he should say that, or how.

“Look, Mickey,” Fiona says. “I know this is new for you, but it’s new for us too, and it’s new for Ian. I don’t know what he’d want you to do, and I don’t think he’s sure yet either. But he knows you’re trying your best, whether you decide to call him or not.”

Mickey huffs. Fiona’s been pulling her big sister shit with him more and more, and he hates when it actually makes him feel a bit better. He still doesn’t know what the fuck he should do though.

“Whatever,” Mickey says.

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Fiona replies in that tone she gets that’s half amused and half annoyed. “Hey, Vee said she invited you guys over for a playdate tonight?”

“Right, yeah,” Mickey says. “We’re doing dinner and letting the kids run around, or whatever.”

“Sounds real cute,” Fiona says. “Definitely your style.”

“I’m hanging up now,” Mickey says, and Fiona’s still laughing when he ends the call.

-

He feels weird, walking past the Gallagher house that night. Svetlana’s holding Yev’s hand as they walk down the sidewalk, and Mickey’s stuck behind them with his hands in his pockets, looking at the house out of the corner of his eye. Svetlana’s talking to Yevgeny in Russian, about behaving himself or sharing toys or some shit.

Mickey hasn’t seen Mandy yet today, hasn’t been able to ask her if she saw Ian between classes. He thought about calling her. He sat there in front of his phone for a while, but he didn’t do it.

“This one?” Svetlana asks, pointing when they’re two houses down from the Gallaghers’.

“I guess,” Mickey says, following her to the door.

Svetlana knocks, and there’s muffled shouting from inside, and a couple of seconds later Kev opens the door with one of the twins on his hip. The girls aren’t identical, but Mickey’s pretty sure he’s never going to remember which name goes to which face. This one’s got a huge cheetah-print bow in her hair.

“Hi,” she says. “Daddy, it’s cold.”

“Come on in, guys,” Kev says, shifting out of the way. “Gem, you wouldn’t be so cold if you wore your socks like I asked you to.”

“I hate socks,” Gemma says, and Kev sighs as he shuts the door behind them.

“You can throw your coats and stuff on the couch over here,” Kev says, leading them through the living room. “Vee’s finishing up dinner. Big kids sit at this table, and little kids sit at this one.”

Kev puts Gemma down next to a small plastic table, where Amy is already sitting, focused on a dinosaur coloring book. She completely ignores them. After Svetlana pulls off Yev’s gloves and hat, she pushes him toward the table. He picks up another coloring book from the pile as he sits down.

“The princess coloring book is the best one,” Gemma says, and neither Yev nor Amy responds, but she doesn’t look bothered.

Mickey and Svetlana sit down at the kitchen table, and Vee looks over her shoulder and waves.

“It’ll be done in a minute,” she says. “Kev made mac and cheese and hot dogs for the kids, and I made some spaghetti for us. Nothing too fancy, but we’ve got booze, so I don’t think you’ll mind.”

“Sounds good to me,” Mickey says.

They get the food and drinks situated pretty quickly, other than a debate between the twins about whether or not they want ketchup on their hot dogs.

“They like to eat the exact same thing all the time,” Vee says. “It was funny for, like, a week.”

“Gets kind of annoying when one of them wants to eat something the other doesn’t like,” Kev adds. “Lots of screaming. Some smacking, sometimes.”

Mickey glances over at the girls. They look real cutesy, lots of pink and frills, but then again Debbie had said something about them watching wrestling once.

“Whenever Yevgeny is too much I will call you,” Svetlana says. “Make me feel better.”

“You ever think about adding another one?” Kev asks. “I mean either of you. Separately.”

Svetlana shrugs. Mickey knows she has thought about it, probably will if she ever gets the chance.

“I never really planned on having one to begin with,” Mickey says.

“Looks like it worked out okay though,” Vee says, looking over at Yev, who’s wiping ketchup off his hand and onto his pants.

“Napkin, Yev,” Mickey calls.

“You know, he’s all Ian ever fuckin’ talks about,” Kev says, nodding over at Yev.

“It’s cute as shit,” Vee adds. “He never shuts up.”

“I don’t think I’d call his blabbermouthing cute,” Mickey says, rolling his eyes.

“Oh really?” Vee asks, raising her eyebrows, and Mickey’s pretty sure he made some kind of misstep.

“I mean, you seem to think Ian’s pretty okay,” Kev says, actually winking at Mickey.

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” Mickey says, squinting.

“Oh, he guesses,” Vee says, shooting Kev and amused look. “That’s very romantic.”

Svetlana laughs. Loudly.

“He not romantic,” she says. “He don’t do dates. Is very new.”

Vee gives Mickey an assessing look.

“Well if you’re actually dating him, that must mean you really do like him,” she says decisively, pointing at him with her fork.

“Uh, sure, whatever,” Mickey says, shrugging. “The whole thing’s been… weird.”

He hasn’t really thought about it a lot, since he starting seeing Ian or whatever. He knows he – _likes_ him, or some shit, and he’s hung out with him a lot, and he definitely likes having sex with him, but he’s never really thought about the whole romance thing. He’s not fuckin’ romantic.

“Complicated is better word,” Svetlana says. “Not so insulting.”

Mickey flips her off.

“The best things in life are weird and complicated,” Kev says in this philosophical voice. “Anybody tell you about my son yet?”

“Not while I’m eating, Kev,” Vee says.

“We know,” Svetlana says shortly. “Yevgeny meet him at Christmas party. He like him.”

“Cool!” Kev says. “I’ll make sure he’s here next time you guys come over. Or we’ll probably have him when you’re at the Gallaghers’ sometime soon. Whenever.”

“I text you next time one of us bring him,” Svetlana says.

Mickey can’t help it; he wonders how long it’ll be ‘til the next time he comes over, with or without Yev. He’s distracted when Gemma spills her juice on Amy’s coloring book and the screaming starts.

-

Yev is quiet the whole train ride home, which always freaks Mickey out. It’s not late enough for him to be too tired, but he huddles up against Svetlana’s side, and when a seat opens up he lets her pull him onto her lap. Mickey has to head to work pretty soon after the get home, though, so he doesn’t get to ask, and it bothers him the rest of the night.

He finally sees Mandy the next morning when he stumbles into the bathroom to take a piss and brush his teeth as she’s showering.

“Get out, fuckface,” she calls.

Mickey rubs at his eyes with one hand and glares back over his shoulder toward the shower as he pisses.

“Ay, you see Gallagher yesterday?” he asks.

“Which one?” Mandy asks, and Mickey can tell from her tone that she’s being difficult on purpose.

“Uh, the one you’ve been crying into your fuckin’ diary about,” Mickey says, and Mandy doesn’t say anything back, which makes Mickey huff in annoyance.

“I know you’re worried about him,” Mickey says, uncapping the toothpaste roughly and squirting some onto the counter.

He huffs again and wipes at it with some toilet paper.

“Oh,” Mandy says, sounding startled, which is fuckin’ weird, but then she gets all pissy and says, “You’d know how he was if you actually bothered to ask him, shithead. Instead of calling his sister like a pussy.”

“Fuck off,” Mickey says around his toothbrush, and that’s all he and Mandy say about the situation.

He doesn’t find out what’s up with Yev until that night, when it’s just him and the kid home. Mickey’s sitting at one end of the couch with a beer in his hand, and Yev has a couple of Hot Wheels on the floor, but he keeps looking over at Mickey.

After a while, Yev comes and sits on the couch, in the middle, pretending to watch the car remodeling show Mickey has on. Mickey pokes Yev in the side with the remote. Yev sighs and flops sideways, burying his face against Mickey’s thigh, and when Mickey pokes him again, Yev rolls onto his back, looking up at Mickey.

“What?” Mickey says.

Yev takes a big breath, and then a bunch of words tumble out of him all at once, his face scrunching up as he stares at the ceiling.

“Gemma said that Ian is sick all the time and sometimes he has to stay in bed for a whole week, and Amy said that it makes him sad and he can’t talk to anyone, but you said Ian was better, and I don’t want him to be sad, Daddy. Is Ian sick?”

Yev looks up at Mickey, his mouth all pinched up and his cheeks pink. Mickey runs a hand over Yev’s hair and breathes heavily through his nose.

“Ian feels better right now,” Mickey says, “but he is sick. It’s something he has all the time.”

Yev sits up, moving fully onto Mickey’s lap, frowning.

“How is he better if he’s always sick?” Yev asks. “Did you see him? You saw he’s better?”

Mickey sighs.

“I didn’t see him.”

“Then how do you know?” Yev asks. “I don’t want him to be sick.”

“Me neither, kid,” Mickey says. “Look, how about we call him. And you can check if he feels better.”

Yev frowns some more, but after a second he nods. Mickey grabs his phone out of his pocket, hesitating for a second before he presses the call button.

“Mickey?” Ian says when he answers, sounding surprised.

The lack of inflection from the other day is gone, though Ian still sounds kind of tired. Mickey’s not sure, though, if Ian is shocked because Mickey’s calling him now, or because Mickey’s calling him at all.

“Uh, hey,” Mickey says. “Sorry if this is – weird, or whatever, but Yev is worried about you. He wants to see if you’re doing better.”

Yev reaches out to grab the phone, and Mickey pushes his hands away.

“Oh,” Ian says. “I am doing better. You can give him the phone.”

“You sure?” Mickey asks. “He doesn’t really get –”

“I know,” Ian says. “We should – talk, to figure out what he should be told.”

“Right,” Mickey says. “Okay. Do you want to, tomorrow –”

“Lunchtime?” Ian asks. “It’ll be just you at your place then, right?”

“Yeah,” Mickey says. “That works. Should I give you to Yev now?”

“Okay,” Ian says, and then he adds, “Wait. I overheard Fiona talking to you on the phone earlier. Has that been happening a lot?”

Mickey closes his eyes.

“Yes?” he says.

“Okay,” Ian says again, suddenly sounding a lot more comfortable. “Put Yev on?”

Mickey hands the phone to Yev, unsure of what just happened. Yev presses the whole phone against the side of his face.

“Ian?” he asks loudly. “Are you really better?”

He makes a bunch of concerned little faces as Ian talks. Mickey can just hear Ian talking – can’t make out the words, but he can hear the soothing voice he’s using, and Yev relaxes after a minute, leaning sideways against Mickey’s chest, cradling the phone to his face with both hands. Mickey rubs his hand up and down the length of Yev’s back, half paying attention to the television. He doesn’t notice until the phone lands on his leg that Yev is asleep.

“You still there?” he asks when he brings it to his year.

“Yeah,” Ian says, sounding amused. “He pass out?”

“Yeah,” Mickey laughs. “What were you talking about?”

“I was telling him about how Liam used to keep me company when I was really sick, and he still does sometimes,” Ian says. “Look, we’ll figure things out tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, alright,” Mickey says, his amusement gone.

He sits there, pressing his face to Yev’s hair, for a long time, not really paying attention to the show anymore.

-

When Mickey steps into his hallway the next day around noon, Ian’s already there, leaning against the wall by the apartment door, a plastic bag in his hand. He looks up when Mickey gets close, and when he sees the pizza box Mickey is holding, he laughs.

“We should’ve planned better,” he says. “I grabbed sandwiches.”

Ian looks fine. Mickey doesn’t know what he was expecting, but he’s surprised that Ian looks fine. It takes him a second to turn away.

“It’ll all get eaten eventually,” Mickey says, unlocking the door.

Ian follows him inside, and Mickey feels uncomfortable as they put down the food and take off their coats and shoes. He hasn’t seen Ian in days, and Ian knows Mickey was keeping tabs on him, and Mickey knows Ian wasn’t mad about it, but he’s still unsure of what the deal is now. He rubs at his mouth as he sits down on the couch next to Ian, and he catches Ian watching the movement, so he drops his hand quickly.

“Pizza was a much better idea,” Ian says, opening the box and grabbing a piece.

Mickey grabs one too. Ian doesn’t look uncomfortable, but he seems guarded, watching Mickey closely, which is freaking Mickey out a bit.

“So,” Ian says, not really looking at Mickey, “if you’re cool with it, I’d like to talk to Yev and explain things to him better. The way we used to explain it to Liam. It’s not fair that he wasn’t prepared at all. I should’ve done it sooner. I’m really sorry –”

“Oh my god,” Mickey says with his mouth full. “Stop fuckin’ apologizing.”

“I should have, though,” Ian says, still looking away. “I’m used to everyone being prepared, at this point, but I knew that you and Yev and Mandy weren’t. And I should’ve told you guys what it’d be like, but I didn’t want to think about it. Everything’s been going so great, and I was hoping I wouldn’t have to deal with it, but then of course it happened –”

“Fiona told me,” Mickey says, and then he hesitates. “I didn’t – I wasn’t sure. What you’d want.”

Ian shrugs and puts his slice of pizza down, wiping his hands on his pants, so Mickey puts his down too.

“I get annoyed with everyone monitoring me,” Ian says, “but when I’m feeling more balanced I appreciate it. Calling is definitely fine. I’m not really sure about visiting though. I – I made you leave because I thought it’d freak you out to see me like that.”

“I mean,” Mickey says, “kind of. I didn’t know what to do. I was – worried.”

He looks down at his hands, clenched into fists on his lap. It’s still not a fuckin’ picnic for him to admit to being worried about his _sister_ , these days. Ian reaches over and kicks and Mickey’s shin with his toes. When Mickey looks over, he’s smiling just a little.

“I’m okay with you staying if you want to stay,” Ian says. “Next time.”

“I’m okay with staying if you want me to,” Mickey replies, smirking, and Ian kicks him again.

Mickey lets himself relax back against the couch, and when Ian picks up his slice of pizza again, Mickey does the same. After a couple of bites, he looks over at Ian.

“So you’re… feeling better, right?” he asks.

“I feel better than I was,” Ian says, nodding. “It’s not that I _am_ better. It’s – I think my family tends to see it as three separate categories. Ian’s low. Ian’s high. Ian’s normal. But that’s not how it works. It’s more of a sliding scale, and with the medication I _usually_ sit somewhere close to the middle, but I never feel like I did before.”

Ian looks comfortable, and he’s talking casually, but he’s not really looking at Mickey again.

“Ian,” Mickey says.

Ian turns and looks at him mid-bite, his eyebrows raised.

“Can I ask you about before?” Mickey says all in a rush, and Ian smiles and drips pizza grease on Mickey’s couch and talks.

Ian tells him about ROTC. Ian tells him about his mom. Ian tells him about trying to enlist when he was too young, about running away when he was too young, about working at a club when he was too young. Ian tells him about coming home and crashing, going to doctors, getting his GED. Ian tells him about how proud his family was when he decided to go to college.

Ian sits next to him on the couch, curling his legs up so that they kind of rest on Mickey’s lap, stretching an arm out so that Mickey’s head is in the crook of his elbow, pulling one of Mickey’s hands into his own and tracing his tattoos, surrounding Mickey as he talks and talks.

“Why’d you pick nursing?” Mickey asks.

When he looks away from their hands, his nose is close to Ian’s ear. Mickey has his free hand on Ian’s thigh, just fuckin’ sitting there. Mickey feels entranced.

“Lip says I have a hero complex,” Ian says, and Mickey gets the sense that it’s his usual deflective answer, but Ian continues, “I want to feel like I’m doing something important, I guess. And I don’t want to be doing the same thing every single day. Working in a hospital seems like it’ll take care of all two of my requirements.”

Ian laughs.

“What?” Mickey asks.

“We always thought Debbie would be a nurse,” Ian says. “But she’s gonna be a social worker, and here I am.”

He kind of shakes his head, like it’s silly, that he’s gone through so much shit and come out the other side still wanting to help people, still able to work towards his goals. Like it’s not a huge deal that he’s here, that he’s still here, that he’s right here right now.

“Ian,” Mickey says again, and when Ian turns, he kisses him, bringing his free hand up to the side of Ian’s face and catching his surprised little noise, grabbing at Ian’s hand with his other.

He works his tongue into Ian’s mouth, searching, and Ian responds for a moment, but then Ian shifts his arm from the back of the couch to wrap it around Mickey’s shoulder, pulling him closer as he presses quick, short kisses to Mickey’s mouth and then up to the side of his head, where Ian presses his face. Mickey closes his eyes, feeling shaken and frantic in a way that he doesn’t really get.

“I’m here,” Ian says against his hair, and Mickey breathes deeply through his nose, and he feels something in him settle.

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on tumblr at [professorwolfjwolf](professorwolfjwolf.tumblr.com).


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